Kisses From An Angel
by jesus-on-a-unicycle
Summary: Takes place after Goodbye Stranger (8x17). Dean has been praying to Castiel for him to come back, but he hasn't gotten a response until now. Some fluffy goodness and some horrible angst (I'm sorry). Freckles are mentioned. Be prepared to cry if you're listening to Build A Home by Cinematic Orchestra.


Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the sky. It had been two months since he had seen Cas in Lucifer's crypt. Dean shuddered in remembrance; it had not been one of the most pleasant memories he had with Castiel. But some things stood out in the memory... Some things he had a lot of trouble forgetting.

He was upset at Castiel, naturally. Dean didn't take well to people lying to him, no matter the circumstances. And the way Cas had been acting... How he seemed to place the tablet above him? It was inexcusable.

Then why was he having trouble blaming the angel?

Sighing, Dean searched the heavens, looking for any sign of Cas in the star-studded sky. Cas? he thought, his green eyes teary but not yet leaking. I need you. Where are you?

However, after a few beats of silence, he knew his thoughts were useless. He had tried this so many times. His angel never came to him.

Without warning, his star-filled eyes overflowed. A wayward tear trickled down the side of his face, which he wiped at angrily. "Look what you're doing to me," he hissed under his breath, forcing a smile. "You're making me cry like a bitch."

"I never intended that, Dean."

Dean whirled around, his hands landing with a heavy smack on his baby's hood. Cas was standing a little behind him, his blue eyes wide and innocent. Humiliation and so many other emotions welled up inside Dean, causing him to flush.

_"Cas?"_ he exploded, scrambling off of the Impala to glare at the angel defensively.

Castiel winced at the angry tone of Dean's voice. "Hello, Dean," he murmured, lowering his voice considerably. Guilt was written plainly on his face. Dean had to swallow his own emotions, struggling to keep up his angry facade.

"Where have you been, man?" he asked, jamming his hands in his pockets. If he let them free he might do something that he'd regret with them.

Cas again flinched, even though Dean's voice was a great deal kinder. His baby blue eyes looked up pleadingly at Dean, despair written all over his face. "Dean."

That said it all. That one word, with the right amount of Cas' guilty I'm-sorry-but-I-can't-tell-you tone. The angel couldn't say–didn't want to say. One of the last things Cas had said to him before he zapped out of Lucifer's crypt swirled inside Dean's head.

_"I have to protect it." Cas was staring at him with those bright eyes, feverish in the half-light. He was ragged and his expression looked raw. Dean felt his heart constrict._

_"From Naomi?"_

_Then, Cas seemed to be snapped out of his calm trance. His jaw clenched and he looked like he was forcing himself to stay grounded, his grip tightening possessively over the tablet. "Yeah. And from you." _

_Dean felt the breath go out of him. Cas' eyes were burning, burning with the intensity that only an angel could possibly possess. "What? _Cas!"

_But it was too late. By then, Cas had already gone with the whisper of an apology. _

"Dean," Cas repeated in the present, knocking Dean out of his reverie. He found himself clenching his fists at his side, knuckles white with effort. His breath was tearing and hitching, and he watched as Castiel gazed at him, concerned, wanting to come closer but afraid of the consequences. "Are you alright?"

"The hell I'm not alright, Cas!" he felt himself release, noticing with some satisfaction that the angel seemed to be knocked backward by the shout. Dean's green eyes were still watery, bloodshot because of repressed tears. He would _not_ let this bastard see him cry.

"You _left_ me! You left and you've been gone for months! You–You," he stopped to catch his breath, nearly shaking at the effort not to sob and reach out and _hold_. "I prayed to you." He watched as Cas visibly responded to the change of tone, blanching but quickly recovering his composure. "I prayed to you, Cas, and you've heard me," he whispered, and for all of Dean's shouting, he'd never seen the angel react so much to his whispers. Cas was clutching the front of his trenchcoat tightly in his hands, his blue eyes devoid of tears but filled with tangible misery.

"I am so sorry, Dean," said the angel, his voice thick with emotion. Dean stared in disbelief as Cas' chest heaved, both men trying desperately to contain their emotions and failing terribly. "I tried so hard not to answer you. It–It took, so much," Cas murmured, staring at his feet, talking so low Dean had to strain to hear him. "I want you to know it took everything I possibly possessed not to come to you."

Dean barked out a cruel laugh, dragging a hand over his mouth. He tried not to notice the tears trailing down his face. "How can you expect me to keep prayin', Cas, if you don't come anymore? When you don't come when I need you? When you don't come at all?" he asked, his voice raising decibels with each question.

Cas' eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look at Dean any longer. It hurt Castiel the most that Dean still had faith. He still had faith in Castiel, still _believed_ in him, after everything that happened.

What was worse... Cas still had faith in Dean, too.

"I mean, seriously? You told me that it was a good thing I was praying–you told me you'd always come when I called you!" Dean fumed. "And when you get back, all you have is a "I never intended that, Dean" and a "I'm so sorry, Dean"," the hunter spat, fighting every impulse to start pacing. "Didn't you know I was miserable? Didn't you know I _needed_ you? Cas, I was–"

Dean got cut off when he felt warmth spread around him. It took him a moment, but he realized that Castiel was _hugging_ him. He felt the arms around him, the face buried in the crook of his neck, wet with tears. But what surprised Dean most was that he hugged him back, breathing in Cas' scent, his hands clutching tightly at the angel's coat.

"I missed you. I missed you so damn much, and I was worried. I was worried fuckin' sick, Cas," Dean hitched, not even trying to regain composure.

Dean shifted when Cas leaned back, his face wet with tears and his bright blue eyes shining like they always did, but the profound sadness that resided there tore through Dean's heart. "There are no words," Cas mumbled, his voice wavering, "to express how sorry I truly am."

Dean's hold on Cas tightened, but he gently took one of his hands and brushed the tears away from his angel's face. "I know," he whispered, caressing Castiel's cheek with his thumb tenderly. "I know. I forgive you, Cas... I can forgive you."

The angel's face lit up at that, despite the tears that lingered. Dean didn't think he'd seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

At the intense look in Dean's eyes, Cas swallowed roughly, examining the hunter's face. Dean had the prettiest green eyes he'd ever seen, framed by long, dark lashes. Even though they were captivating, something else caught Cas' eye. Dean's freckles, so rarely seen but always there, dusted over his cheekbones and nose. He always smiled when he saw them.

"What?" Dean asked with a rich chuckle. Cas marveled at how his laughter vibrated through his own chest, and suddenly realized just how close they were. For a split second, Cas wondered why Dean had let him so close without complaining about personal space. Then he realized just how tightly Dean was holding him...

"D-Did you know," Cas started breathlessly, licking his lips nervously, "that freckles are kisses from an angel, Dean?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge Dean's reaction.

Dean's brow furrowed, but his smile remained. "I think my mom used to tell me that," he replied softly, moving his hand to cup Cas' cheek. "Why?"

Cas felt himself shiver, and he quickly wetted his lips again. "Because," he said quietly, taking advantage of the close proximity and pressing his lips to Dean's.

It was a simple kiss, not anything particularly special. Cas had just laid his lips on Dean's, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, scared of what was to come. When Dean didn't wrench away (but he didn't respond in kind, either), Cas pulled away shyly and held onto Dean's jacket for dear life, ducking his head in embarrassment, stammering, "I-I'm sorry, Dean, it won't–"

"Cas," Dean cut him off, gently tipping Cas' chin up. The air from Dean's lungs had been knocked out of him as soon as their eyes met, and for a moment all he could think about was Cas. "Shut up." He eventually finished, capturing Castiel's lips with his own.

They remained by the Impala, exchanging reassurances and apologies, their hands and lips soothing wounds that had long opened and desired to be healed. Neither of them knew how long it would last or how difficult the road ahead would be, especially with the angel tablet involved, but they promised each other something that night. They promised they'd get through it together, and that no one would be able to break them apart.

_Because_, Dean thought with a smile, running his fingers lovingly through Cas' hair as they curled up beside each other on the hood of the Impala, _No matter the consequences, no matter what happens, Cas will _always_ be my angel._

The stars shined brighter that night, as if they were smiling.


End file.
